


The Pendragon Way

by dreamdustmama



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-05-03
Updated: 2011-05-03
Packaged: 2017-10-18 22:41:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,924
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/194092
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dreamdustmama/pseuds/dreamdustmama
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arthur answers an ad in the paper for a third flat mate, and his life is turned completely upside down.  It's the best decision he's ever made.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Pendragon Way

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [accioscar](http://accioscar.livejournal.com) for the first round of [glomp_fest](http://glomp-fest.livejournal.com).

_Wanted:  
One flat mate, preferably male. Must be employed and able to pay one-third rent and bills. The ability to take care of yourself is required. Lazy bums, uni kids, and homophobes need not apply.  
Call for more information._

"Arthur, are you listening to me?"

Arthur startles slightly, tearing his eyes away from the tiny, inconspicuous ad in the corner of the Sunday paper. "Yes, of course," he says smoothly, folding the section and setting it casually on the seat beside him at the table. "You were talking about the formal company dinner next month."

Uther's lips tighten almost imperceptibly, his gaze sharpening on Arthur's face. "Indeed. As I was saying, I'm counting on you. We're going to be entertaining some very important people, and mistakes are inexcusable. This could be a turning point for the company. I trust you've already started preparing?"

"Yes, Father," Arthur agrees, carefully keeping his features neutral; he despises these dinners with every fiber of his being. "I've already contacted the tailor for a fitting on new formal wear."

"Good," Uther says, nodding in obvious satisfaction at his son's expected obedience. "You'll also need to phone the caterers today and make sure they're on schedule, and the decorators as well. We'll need some sort of music – "

Arthur very briefly entertains the thought of hiring a punk rock band.

" – preferably a string quartet, or similar. These people must be impressed, Arthur. Oh, and we'll need to find waiters and hire a clean up crew for afterwards." Uther pauses, looking thoughtful. "There's probably something I'm forgetting, but I'm sure you'll get it all taken care of. You haven't failed me yet."

 _Yet_ , Arthur thinks bitterly, and smiles reassuringly. "Don't worry, I'll figure everything out."

"I'm sure you will," Uther says absently, pushing his chair back from the table. "If you'll excuse me, I've remembered something I must do. Enjoy the rest of your lunch."

Arthur nods, knowing that anything he said at this point would just be ignored. He watches Uther walk from the room, and not for the first time feels as though nothing he does will ever be good enough. Glancing at his barely-touched plate, Arthur only hesitates for a second before grabbing the folded paper from the chair and pushing back from the table.

*

Arthur's rooms are in the opposite wing from his father's. The main doors lead to his personal lounge, and another door leads to his bedroom and a large en suite bathroom. He's used these rooms since he was a young boy, the only exception being the years he was at University. Even then Uther had paid extra for Arthur to have a private room, and most of the other students had thought he'd been too spoiled and snooty to be friends with. He had kept mostly to himself, and had been vastly relieved to finally graduate, though he had apparently enjoyed his temporary freedom enough to not want to move back home.

Uther had insisted, however, and – as usual – Arthur had given in with barely a fight. He was, after all, going to work at his father's company. What was the point in living somewhere else?

Arthur stares down at the paper spread out beside him on the expensive leather couch. The tiny ad in the corner stares back, and it almost feels as though it's daring him to call the number listed at the very bottom. Taking a deep breath, Arthur picks up his mobile and punches in the numbers, hitting send before he can change his mind.

It rings three times before anyone answers, and when they finally do Arthur has to wipe his hands across the fabric of his trousers.

"Hello?"

"Um, hi," Arthur says, and curses himself silently for being so utterly awkward. He clears his throat. "I'm calling about the ad in the paper. The one for a flat mate."

"How old are you?" the man on the other end asks.

"Er," Arthur says, blinking. "Twenty-five."

"And you know how to clean up after yourself?"

Arthur glances around at his pristine lounge, made that way by his father's cleaning staff. "Yes, of course."

"How do you feel about gay people?"

"I am one," Arthur says, trying to keep any defensiveness out of his voice. It's one area of his life his father has had no say over, and if he's going to be sharing a flat then it seems like something he should be upfront about.

"Oh, brilliant," the man says, to Arthur's surprise. "No problems there, then. Last question – do you have a job?"

Arthur winces. Not for long he doesn't, especially if he can talk his way into this flat. "Technically, no. But – "

The man sighs. "Never mind. You sounded bloody perfect too."

"I'll pay two months in advance!" Arthur cries, rushing to get the words out before he's hung up on. "If I don't have a job at the end of those two months you can feel free to kick me out on my arse, no complaints from me."

There's a long pause, and Arthur has to pull the phone away from his ear and look at the screen to make sure they're still connected. Finally, he hears another sigh.

"I'm not supposed to do this, but ok. If you give us two months worth of your third then you can move in. But you still have to buy your own food, and the only way you can stay after the two months is if you start working somewhere."

Arthur is fairly certain the sudden grin pulling at his face looks ridiculous, but he doesn't care. "Thank god," he says. "If I stay any longer where I am I'm going to go completely insane."

The man laughs. "I've been there, mate. Alright, I'm actually home today, so why don't you come on over and look around? We can work out the details while you're here."

Arthur writes down the address and hangs up, and as soon as he does his heart leaps into his throat. Fucking hell, he's actually going to do this. He's going to quit his job and move in with strangers.

Swallowing thickly, Arthur shoves the paper with the address on it into one pocket and his phone into the other. He grabs his car keys and walks out the door.

*

Arthur knocks firmly on the door to flat number two-twelve, glancing around the corridor as he does. The building itself is nice, even if it's not what he's used to. It definitely isn't in the dodgiest part of town, so he figures it could be worse.

The door swings open a moment later and Arthur is face-to-face with a man about his height, dark hair almost to his shoulders and light stubble on his face.

"Hi, I'm Arthur," Arthur says, holding one hand out. "I called earlier?"

"Right, the posh sounding one," the man says, giving Arthur a firm handshake before stepping back to let him in. "I'm Gwaine, flat mate number one. Merlin's at work right now, but if you stick around a while you'll get to meet him. He's probably not going to be happy about me renting the room out without talking to him first, so he might be a bit snarky, but I promise he's easy to get along with once you get to know him."

Arthur just nods and follows Gwaine into the flat, looking around at the neat living room. "So are you and Merlin…?"

Gwaine stares at him in confusion for a moment, and then his eyes widen in realization and he lets out peal of laughter. "Christ, no. He's like my little brother. I've got a girlfriend, actually, and I've no doubt you'll meet her soon enough. Besides," he says, grinning wickedly at Arthur, "I'd say you have a better chance with Merlin than I do."

Arthur blinks. "Ah – "

Gwaine ignores him, turning and gesturing around the flat as he talks. "Right, so. This is the lounge, obviously, and through that archway over there you can see the kitchen. There's a small utility room off of it, just big enough for a washer and dryer. Down the hall are the three bedrooms and the bathroom. Nothing fancy, as you can see, but we like it."

"It's nice," Arthur says honestly. "Can you show me which room will be mine?"

"It's the one at the very end," Gwaine says, leading the way down the hall. "The guy who was renting it was a complete wanker, and after six months of begging off his part of the rent we chucked him out and sold all his stuff to make up what he owed us."

He stops at a closed door and gestures Arthur toward it. There's something like a challenge in his eyes, and Arthur automatically narrows his own before reaching for the knob and pushing the door open.

The room itself is completely bare, not a single thing in it aside from the cream-colored carpet on the floor. It's a fairly decent size, and there's a cupboard door in one corner and a window on the far end. The walls, however, are the vilest pale greenish color Arthur has ever seen. He turns and gives Gwaine a disbelieving look.

"Are you not allowed to paint the walls?"

"Sure we are," Gwaine says, shrugging. He crosses his arms and leans against the doorframe. "But we weren't going to do all that work and then have a new flat mate come in and ruin it by painting over it again."

Arthur can't really deny the logic in that. He lets out a breath. "Alright, I can handle painting walls. That can't be too hard, can it?"

Gwaine just raises his eyebrows. "If you say so. Still want to sign on then?"

"I do," Arthur says, nodding firmly. "I'm ready to pay now, as we agreed upon."

"Wow, you really are posh," Gwaine says, raising an eyebrow. He snorts lightly when Arthur scowls at him, and steps away from the door to head back down the hall. "The rental contract is in the kitchen." He shoots a grin over his shoulder. "And so is the celebratory beer."

Arthur rolls his eyes before following, and is secretly proud of the fact that his hand doesn't shake when he signs his name.

*

Somehow Gwaine convinces Arthur to stay for a drink, and then another, despite the fact that it's still afternoon. They end up sprawled across the couch watching reruns of Doctor Who (but only because they can't find a decent football match to watch instead), and Arthur is trying to decide whether or not he wants a third drink or to call a taxi and go home.

Well, no. That's not quite accurate anymore, is it? Because he's paid his part and signed the contract, which means he actually _is_ home. There's a key in his pocket to prove it.

Now he just has to gather the balls to tell Uther.

Arthur frowns at his nearly-empty beer bottle, picking absently at the label. The buzz he's been enjoying starts to die, and he quickly decides that he needs to leave. There's still things he needs to take care of before he can make the move official, like finding furniture and writing up his resignation. He sits up, placing his bottle on the coffee table in front of him and turns to tell Gwaine he's leaving. Before he can even form the words on his tongue, however, a key turns in the front door and it swings open. A tall, skinny, black-haired man stumbles in, cursing quietly under his breath as he slams the door shut behind him.

Arthur doesn't even realize he's staring until the man looks up and all he can see is a pair of gorgeous blue eyes.

"Merlin!" Gwaine exclaims happily, pushing himself off the sofa and sauntering over to him. "I was wondering when you'd finally get here."

"Er," Merlin says, clearly confused about who Arthur is and why he's there. "Gaius made me stay late and clean out from under all the seats in theater one, despite that not being part of my job."

"Well that's bollocks," Gwaine says cheerfully, throwing one arm around Merlin's shoulders. "But never mind that. Merlin, meet Arthur." He gestures at Arthur and leans closer to Merlin's ear. "Arthur's our new flat mate."

Merlin twists his head around to stare at Gwaine in startled disbelief, and Arthur's eyes drop to the long, exposed line of his neck.

"Our new _what_?" Merlin asks sharply.

"Flat mate," Gwaine repeats, dropping his arm from Merlin's shoulders and shoving his hands in his pockets.

"Hello," Arthur says, flashing Merlin a tentatively hopeful smile.

Merlin stares at him for a moment, and then gives him a tight smile around obviously clenched teeth. "Could you excuse us for a minute?" he asks, and doesn't bother waiting for Arthur's answer before gripping Gwaine's elbow and dragging him off down the hall. Arthur hears a door slam followed by Merlin's very unhappy voice, and he can't help but wince. He knows what it's like to have unwelcome surprises thrown at you.

Finishing off his beer, Arthur continues picking at the label until things go suddenly quiet and the door opens again. Gwaine appears first, looking utterly unfazed by it all, and Merlin follows close behind him, his face carefully neutral.

Arthur quickly stands, stomach twisting nervously. "Look, uh. I didn't mean to start any arguments or anything. I just saw your ad and decided – well, never mind, that's not important. Anyway, if it's too much trouble I'll find somewhere else to go, but if it's alright I'd like to stay here. I've already paid two months advance on my third, so – "

Merlin holds up his hand, suddenly looking much more tired than he had when he'd walked in the door. "It's alright, you can stay. Gwaine's an arse for not talking with me first about it," he shoots Gwaine a venomous glare, "seeing as how I live here too, but he's explained the deal you made and I guess I'm ok with it."

Arthur's not quite sure what to make of that, so he just gives a hesitant nod. "Right. Well, uh. It'll probably be a few days before I'm moved in fully anyway. I've got to find a new bed and some other things, and get everything packed and taken care of." He pulls a face. "And paint the walls before having any of it brought over."

To his surprise, a grin bursts across Merlin's face. "The fact that you hate those walls has just raised my previously non-existent opinion of you by at least five points."

Arthur can't help but raise an eyebrow, lips twisting in amusement. "That's good to know. Now give me a reason to do the same for you."

Merlin blinks, and Gwaine lets out a loud laugh. "You two are either going to get along spectacularly bad or spectacularly well; either way, it's bound to be entertaining."

"Shut up, Gwaine," Merlin says, rolling his eyes and turning to head for the kitchen. "I'm ordering Chinese for dinner, I'm about to starve. Arthur, what do you like?"

"Oh," Arthur says, surprised. "Actually, I won't be able to stay. I haven't even told – " he stumbles slightly over his words, not really wanting to go into it all, " – who I'm living with now what's going on. They're expecting me for dinner."

Merlin shrugs. "Ok. See you later then?"

"Yeah," Arthur agrees, taking a step towards the door. "I'll probably be back at some point tomorrow to do…stuff." He waves vaguely in the direction of the bedroom down the hall.

Merlin's already disappeared into the kitchen and doesn't answer, but Gwaine claps him on the back as he reaches the door.

"Don't worry, mate, I think everything's going to work out just fine."

Arthur thinks of Uther, and gives him a smile that feels brittle around the edges. "I'm sure you're right," he says, but when he steps out into the corridor and Gwaine shuts the door behind him, he suddenly feels unsure about everything.

*

The next morning, Arthur gets up before Uther and eats his breakfast alone in the kitchen. He hadn't slept well the night before, his dreams filled with images of Uther's disapproving scowl warring with images of beautiful blue eyes and dark hair. He knows he looks like hell, and the last thing he wants is for Uther to actually pay attention and ask him what's wrong. Arthur's going to tell him, but he needs to make sure he's got everything taken care of first.

As soon as he's finished eating he calls his secretary to let her know he won't be in that day, and then calls for a taxi before going back up to his room to take a quick shower while he's waiting. He dresses in jeans and one of his favorite t-shirts that he rarely gets to wear, only giving his hair a quick dry with his towel instead of carefully combing through it like usual. It's odd not going through his usual Monday morning routine, but he can't deny that the feeling of freedom he gets from it far outweighs anything else.

He manages to leave the house without running into Uther (which, admittedly, isn't that hard), and when the taxi drops him off at his car he can't help but feel a bit like he's escaped a prison. Uther isn't a _terrible_ father by any means, no matter how hard he can be. Arthur knows Uther loves him, but he also knows that he'll never be anything more than a disappointment to him. It's something he accepted long ago, and until now he thought he could live with it.

Somehow, in under twenty-four hours, Arthur has realized he'd rather be a disappointment to his father than a disappointment to himself.

Unlocking his car door, Arthur climbs in and then just sits there for a minute, closing his eyes and taking deep breaths. Finally, he opens his eyes and starts the engine, using the GPS to find the nearest furniture store.

*

The bed he finally settles on is half the size of the one at home (no, not home, he reminds himself), and he ends up choosing a firmer mattress just because he can. He gets the matching bedside table and dresser along with the bed, and arranges to have the whole lot of it delivered on Wednesday.

Then he goes shopping.

Arthur's wardrobe mostly consists of work suits and formal suits and casual trousers matched carefully with button-down shirts. He owns a couple of pairs of jeans and a few t-shirts, and the trainers on his feet have been worn so few times they still feel new. So that's what he buys: several pairs of comfortable jeans, a stupid amount of t-shirts, a few pajama bottoms, a couple of blazer jackets, and one casual-dress outfit just in case. Just before heading to check out he grabs two large, soft pillows and a set of red-striped bedsheets that Uther would probably scowl at.

He fits it all into the trunk and then drives back to the Pendragon house to gather up anything he might want to take with him.

His scarcely used duffle bag is stuffed into the far corner of the top shelf of his closet, and he quickly packs it with the photo of his mum that's by his bed, his alarm clock, bedside lamp, toiletries from the bathroom, some of his towels and washcloths, his iPod, a few of his favorite books, his reading glasses, and the photo album Morgana had given him for his twenty-first birthday. Just before walking out he shuts his laptop and slides it and the charger into their leather case, and then hitches both that and the duffle bag over his shoulder.

He closes the main door behind him and doesn't look back.

*

Arthur stops at his favorite deli for a quick lunch before driving over to the flat. He grabs his duffle bag and laptop case to take up first, grateful that there's a working lift so he doesn't have to climb three flights of stairs. The key Gwaine had given him feels heavy in his pocket, and he pauses outside the door to take a deep breath before pulling it out and sliding it into the lock. The _snick_ of it releasing makes Arthur grin; it sounds like freedom.

Shutting the door quietly behind him, Arthur makes his way down the hallway towards his room. He's almost reached it when the door to the bathroom swings open and Merlin steps out, tying a towel around his waist. He's otherwise completely naked, and Arthur freezes, making a strangled noise in the back of his throat. Merlin's head snaps up, eyes widening as they land on Arthur, and a sudden flush works its way up his neck.

"Sorry," Arthur manages, voice cracking slightly on the last syllable. He clears his throat, tearing his eyes away from the droplets of water clinging to Merlin's collarbone. "I didn't mean to –"

"No, it's – " Merlin interrupts, dropping his gaze back down to the knot on his towel and pulling it a bit tighter. The flush has reached his cheeks. "It's ok. I mean, you live here now and – and we all have to share a bathroom. There's bound to be run-ins and such."

"Right," Arthur agrees, nodding. "I was just, uh." He gestures to his duffle bag. "Moving some stuff in."

"Of course," Merlin says, finally lifting his gaze and staring at the wall behind Arthur. "That's to be expected, really. And you did say you were coming back today." He pinches the bridge of his nose. "I'm going to go to my room now and get dressed, before I make an even bigger fool of myself."

Arthur opens his mouth to tell him that he's done no such thing, but Merlin has already sidled past him and disappeared into the bedroom next to his, shutting the door firmly behind him. Arthur bites his lip and stares at the door for a moment before letting out a breath and moving on to his own room. He sets the duffle bag and laptop case on the floor, and quickly heads back out to keep from running into Merlin again.

He takes the stairs down, just to waste time, but he has so many shopping bags to bring back up there's no possible way he _can't_ take the lift. It's at least enough time to get his heart rate under control, but there's not much he can do about the half-hard state of his cock.

When Arthur manages to get the door to the flat open and stumbles through, nearly dropping his bags as he does, Merlin pokes his head around the archway leading to the kitchen.

He takes in Arthur, arms loaded down with bags, and raises both eyebrows. "Looks like you bought the whole damn shop. Need some help?"

"Help would be greatly appreciated," Arthur puffs out; maybe it hadn't been such a good idea to try and bring all the bags up at one time.

Merlin's lips quirk in obvious amusement, but he pads out of the kitchen (his feet are bare, Arthur thinks blankly) and takes several of the bags from Arthur. They start down the hall, and his eyebrows shoot up when he catches a glimpse of what the bags contain. "What did you do, get a whole new wardrobe?"

"Er," Arthur says, suddenly uncomfortable. "Pretty much, yeah. I'm, uh. Making some changes. Starting over, I guess you could say."

Merlin blinks, as though he hadn't actually expected that answer. "Okay," he says slowly. "Did you have a bad breakup, or something? Not that it's my business or anything," he rushes to add.

"No," Arthur says, smiling slightly. "Nothing like that. 'Kick-starting my life' might be a better way to phrase it, if we're getting technical."

They reach Arthur's room and he dumps his armful of bags on the floor next to his duffle bag and laptop, flexing his fingers out as Merlin drops the ones he's carrying. They stand there for a second, the air suddenly growing thick with awkwardness.

Merlin clears his throat. "I'm making lunch, if you want a sandwich or something."

"I've already eaten, actually," Arthur says, and really wishes he hadn't stopped at the deli. "And I've got something important I need to take care of this afternoon, so…" He gestures vaguely at the door.

"Oh," Merlin says. "Right. I'll, uh. See you later, then?"

Arthur nods, and kind of wishes he could disappear. "Yeah, definitely."

Merlin smiles slightly, and then turns and walks out of the room. Arthur counts to sixty before following, slipping quietly out the front door as Merlin moves around in the kitchen.

"Christ," he mutters under his breath when he's in the outside corridor. "What the fuck is wrong with you?"

When there's no immediate answer forthcoming, Arthur sighs and takes the lift back down.

It's time to face Uther.

*

Arthur's fairly certain he's never got quite so many odd looks from the people in his father's office before. Not a single employee has ever seen him in anything less than nice trousers and a button down. It almost makes him want to laugh, if not for the reason he's there. His stomach clenches into a painful knot, but the last thing he wants to do is back out.

Nodding to Uther's secretary, Arthur takes a deep breath and knocks on his father's office door.

"Come in," Uther calls.

Steeling himself one more time, Arthur pushes open the heavy wooden door and steps inside, making sure he shuts it completely behind him so as to keep anybody from overhearing. "Hello, Father."

"Ah, Arthur," Uther says, looking up from the papers on his desk. "There you are. Your secretary had said you weren't coming in today, but I don't recall – " He breaks off, suddenly frowning. "What are you wearing? That isn't appropriate company attire, as I know you are aware."

"I am," Arthur says, and barely resists crossing his arms over his chest defensively. "I'm resigning, and marking this past Friday as my last official day as CEO."

"What?" Uther breathes out on a shocked laugh. "I'm sorry, I must have heard you wrong. Did you just say you're _quitting_ the company?"

Arthur swallows, his heart beating unevenly in his chest. "I did. I am. I've already informed Human Resources that they'll be receiving an official letter of resignation from me in a few days time." He hesitates, but knows it would be best to just get it all out at once. "Also, I'm moving out. I've already removed my most important things from your house. I'm sharing a flat with two others, and so far we get along brilliantly."

Uther stares at him for a moment, and then gives him a dangerous smile. "Gather your things and go back home. Take a week's holiday from work; go out, get drunk, have sex – anything you want to do. And then get your arse back in line. We have a dinner coming up, and I need you here to work out the details."

"No," Arthur says, his voice steady and firm. "I've made my decision, and you're just going to have to live with it."

Uther's face turns a very ugly shade of puce. "Get out," he orders, voice cold.

Arthur leaves, and despite the hollow ache in his chest he knows he's done the right thing.

*

He drives around randomly for a few hours after that, needing the time and the quiet to gather his thoughts. He's truly made this decision, and actually gone through with it. It seems sort of impossible that he's done it, but the way his stomach continues to roll tells him that it's very much real and now he's going to have to prove that he can pull it off. He can't let Uther win this one.

When he finally gets back to the flat that evening, the first thing he sees after opening the door is Merlin, sitting on the couch and flipping idly through the channels on the telly. He looks bored as fuck, and Arthur kind of wishes he could walk over and lick his ear, just to see Merlin's reaction.

Also because he really, _really_ wants to lick Merlin's ear. And maybe nibble it some too. Merlin would probably make wonderfully glorious noises, writhing his hips and twisting those long fingers into Arthur's shirt to pull it over his head –

The second thing he notices is that Gwaine is home, and the third is the pretty blonde in Gwaine's lap.

"Hi!" she says, grinning widely.

"Er," Arthur says, kicking the door shut behind him. "Hello."

Merlin's eyes flick toward him and then back to the telly, his thumb hitting the channel button on the remote. "Welcome back," he says lightly. "Don't mind them, they're just disgustingly cute."

"You're just jealous," the girl says teasingly, lightly kicking at Merlin's leg.

His lips twist as he obviously tries to hold back a smile. "Oh, yeah, terribly jealous," he deadpans, flipping to another channel. "I don't know how I'll continue to live without nose kisses and pet names."

Arthur snorts out a laugh, and Merlin flashes him a grin.

"Stop flirting with my girlfriend," Gwaine complains, reaching over to lightly push Merlin before looking over at Arthur. "This is Elena. I told you you'd meet her soon. She's here all the time, really, I don't often get her to go back to her own flat – ow!" He reaches up to rub the place on his arm where Elena had just punched him.

"Arse," she says casually, and Gwaine grins innocently at her. She rolls her eyes and leans in to give him a quick kiss, eliciting a matching eye roll from Merlin. Arthur grins. "Well, don't just stand there," Elena says, gesturing Arthur over. "You can sit here next to Merlin; there's plenty of room. It's pizza and beer night, and as soon as Merlin and Gwaine can stop fighting over which movie to watch we're going to order."

"We're not fighting," Merlin protests, waving the remote in his hands. "Possessor of the clicker gets to decide; you know the rules."

Arthur raises an eyebrow, and takes two steps forward to pluck the remote from Merlin's hand. "Thank you for that pertinent information."

"Hey!" Merlin cries indignantly as Gwaine and Elena burst out laughing. He swipes for the remote. "Cheater!"

Arthur steps back out of the way, giving him a shit-eating grin. "It's not my fault you didn't have a good grip on it." He ignores Merlin's narrowed eyes and steps around him, dropping down into the empty space between him and the tangle of Elena and Gwaine. "Now, let's see what's on."

"That's exactly what I was already doing," Merlin mutters, but he relaxes against the back of the couch, crossing his arms and stretching his long legs out in front of him.

"Nothing romantic," Elena says, leaning back against Gwaine. "That stuff bores me to tears."

"And no musicals," Gwaine adds, and Arthur doesn't miss the sly look he sends Merlin.

Merlin sniffs but otherwise doesn't respond, keeping his eyes glued to the screen. "Preferably nothing too gory, if you can manage it," he says. "Last time we watched one of those Saw movies I ended up having to leave the room and go vomit."

"What a lovely mental image," Arthur deadpans, and Merlin's lips twist up into a smirk. "You people are a picky bunch, aren't you?"

Merlin shakes his head. "We just know what we like, that's all." He glances at Arthur, smirk stretching even further.

Arthur feels his lips twitch, and clears his throat as he uses the remote to bring up the channel guide.

"I'm going to go order the pizza," Elena says, amusement filling her voice as she slides off Gwaine's lap. "Any requests?"

"Hawaiian," Arthur and Merlin say at the same time, and then glance at each other in surprise.

Gwaine laughs. "Like I said, entertaining."

They end up watching _Inception_. Gwaine and Elena share a pizza loaded down with meat, and Arthur and Merlin end up fighting over the last slice of Hawaiian (Arthur lets Merlin win).

"What would your totem be?" Merlin asks, gesturing at the movie before popping a pineapple into his mouth.

"My necklace," Gwaine answers immediately. "No question."

Elena scrunches her face up in thought. "Probably a chess piece like Ariadne. My dad and I love to play."

"Mine would be the carved dragon my father gave me for Christmas last year," Merlin says. "It's a bit big, but there's nothing else like it. What about you, Arthur?"

"My ring," Arthur answers, keeping his eyes glued to the screen. "It was my mother's." It's obvious what he means, and for a few minutes all that can be heard is shouting and gunfire. Finally, Arthur clears his throat. "So who else thinks Arthur and Eames are fucking?"

Elena chokes on her pizza and Gwaine bursts out laughing. Merlin, however, looks at him like he's stupid.

"What the hell? They're not fucking."

"What?" Arthur says in surprise. "Yes, they are. It's obvious."

"The only thing obvious is how blind you apparently are," Merlin shoots back. "Anybody can see they're not together."

Arthur twists in his seat so that he's facing Merlin better, pointing at the television. "He called him _darling_. What man calls another man 'darling' if there's no cock involved? And you can't tell me you didn't see all that flirting."

"Of course I saw it," Merlin huffs, rolling his eyes. "But did you miss the part where they haven't seen each other in years? Eames was all the way on the other side of the world, and didn't speak all that fondly of Arthur."

Arthur waves that away. "Arthur knew exactly where Eames was. How would he know that if they weren't keeping in touch? There was so much sexual tension between them I'm surprised they didn't jump each other's bones as soon as they saw each other."

"You're not getting it," Merlin says, looking at Arthur with something almost like pity. "They _used_ to be together. They have a past. But obviously something happened that took them in opposite directions, and maybe the parting wasn't completely friendly but there's still a fuck-ton of love there. So no, they're not fucking – right now. But as soon as all this is over? Hell yeah. They won't be able to resist."

Arthur narrows his eyes, but try as he might he can't come up with an argument for Merlin's logic. He scowls. "Whatever," he mutters, turning back to face the telly. He can see Merlin's triumphant grin out of the corner of his eye, and reaches over to snag the last two bites of Merlin's pizza in retaliation.

"Well," Gwaine says after a moment. "I would have to say that I'm definitely seeing some sexual tension."

Elena buries her face in his neck, unsuccessfully trying to hide her snorting laughter.

Arthur and Merlin ignore him.

At the end of the movie they have another debate about whether or not it was all a dream, and it goes on so long that Elena and Gwaine leave them to it to go to bed. They never really reach a conclusion, but somehow they end up watching two more movies because neither of them wants to go to sleep.

*

When Arthur wakes the next day he's on the couch, and there's a blanket he doesn't recognize covering him. He yawns and stretches before sitting up, absently twisting his ring around his forefinger. He must have fallen asleep in the middle of talking to Merlin last night. Or would it be this morning? He checks his watch and isn't surprised to see that it's nearly midday.

Yawning again, Arthur spots a folded piece of paper on the coffee table with his name scrawled across the front. He picks it up and opens it, his stomach flip-flopping stupidly.

 _Arthur,_

 _Sorry about falling asleep on you last night, though I think you nodded off around the same time. We should do that again. The talking, I mean. It was fun having a real debate about something without it delving into stupid jokes or talk about tits._

 _Help yourself to whatever you want in the kitchen; we all chip in with groceries, but I know you haven't had a chance to buy anything yet. You can just toss my blanket back into my room; I'll be home from work in a few hours._

 _Merlin_

 _p.s. You drool._

Arthur automatically reaches up to swipe the back of his hand across his mouth, but even that can't wipe the stupid grin off his face.

Pushing off the couch, Arthur refolds the note and stuffs it into his jeans pocket. He _is_ hungry but he wants a shower first, and he needs to check his email. Picking up Merlin's blanket, he folds it as best he can and makes his way down the hall to the bedrooms. He stops in front of Merlin's door, hesitating. Merlin had said he could take the blanket in, but it still feels odd to go into another man's room without him there.

Arthur reaches for the knob and pushes the door open, not really knowing what to expect. Somehow, it's a bit of an anticlimax to see how _normal_ Merlin's room is. The headboard of his bed is against the left wall, the unmade sheets bright blue and soft-looking. There are clothes scattered around the floor, and a nearly overstuffed bookcase is in the far left corner. A desk is shoved between the window and the cupboard door, a new-looking desktop sitting in the middle.

Arthur steps inside and dumps the blanket on the bed, knowing it would be an invasion of Merlin's privacy if he stayed any longer. He turns to walk back out, but as he does something on Merlin's desk catches his eye and he pauses. Turning his head, he narrows his eyes and steps closer. When he realizes that yes, he is in fact seeing what he thinks he is, a huge, wicked grin stretches across his face.

Recalling that he and Merlin had exchanged numbers at some point the night before, Arthur pulls his phone out of his pocket and snaps a quick picture of the DVD case, saving it as a text and quickly typing out a message to go with it. He hits send.

 _Glee, Merlin? Really?_

Snickering, Arthur turns and walks out, shutting the door behind him and heading to his own room. He's just dug out clean clothes and the stuff he needs for his shower when his phone beeps, and he can't stop from grinning again as he opens the text from Merlin.

 _Oh god. SHUT UP._

Arthur bursts out laughing. He is never, ever going to let him live this down.

After his shower Arthur eats a quick bowl of cereal in the kitchen and then heads back to his room to see if he can connect his laptop to the internet. It's now Tuesday and he hasn't checked his email since Saturday – since before he saw the ad in the paper. He sits cross-legged on the floor and puts in the information Gwaine gave him, giving a triumphant little cheer when the icon that shows he's connected pops up.

He pulls up his browser and opens his email, unsurprised at the high number of unread messages; what he hadn't expected was to see one from his father at the very top. Frowning, Arthur only hesitates for a moment before clicking on it.

 _It would seem that you've forgotten I still have access to all your accounts, credit cards included. Unfortunately, your car is in your name so there isn't anything I can do about that. I have, however, dropped the insurance on it._

 _Be careful what you wish for._

Arthur's stomach drops, his blood turning cold. "Oh god. No, no, no."

He clicks over to his bank's website and types in the information to his checking and savings accounts, holding his breath. When the screen loads all he can do is stare in horror.

He's completely and utterly broke. Not a single pound to his name.

Closing his laptop with a shaking hand, Arthur stares down at the shiny black surface in shock. Uther had taken every bit of money he had, and Arthur knows he'll never see it again.

Unless he goes crawling back and admits he was wrong.

Scowling, he shoves the laptop onto the floor and stretches out, lying on his back and staring at the ceiling. Going back isn't something he would ever consider, especially now; he knows that as well as he knows his own name. But what the fuck is he going to do? All of the essentials are taken care of – he spares a grateful thought for the clothes in the closet and the furniture scheduled to be delivered tomorrow. Clothes and furniture aren't going to help him with things like food or new insurance for his car, though. How is he supposed to find a job without his car, or money for a taxi? No matter how well he gets along with Gwaine and Merlin, he knows they'll kick him out at the end of his two months if he doesn't have the job he promised.

He thinks he just might throw up.

"We have a couch, you know. There's no reason to be lying on the floor."

Arthur turns his head and looks at Merlin, standing in his open door and staring at him with clear amusement. He's wearing jeans and a black t-shirt that says 'Staff' in small, white block letters over his heart.

"I'm broke," Arthur says dejectedly. "And you're going to kick me out."

Merlin's eyebrows shoot up and he steps into the room, taking a seat near Arthur on the floor. "You've already paid us for two months, and that's plenty of time to find a job. I don't think anyone's getting kicked out."

Arthur groans. "No, you don't understand." He sighs and rubs his hands over his face; he's just going to have to explain everything. He drops his hands and looks at the ceiling again. "My father," he starts, "is a bastard."

Which is really not what he'd meant to say.

"Okay," Merlin says, sounding confused. "Dare I ask what he did to deserve that title?"

Arthur scowls. "My whole life, he's always told me what to do and when to do it. I went along with it because I wanted so hard to not disappoint him. Aside from the time I spent at uni, I've always lived in his house. I went to work for him after graduating, just like he'd always planned. I never even considered doing something for myself. Everything just… _was_." He pauses, takes a deep breath. "On Sunday I saw the ad for the room here. I can't even say what it was about it that caught my attention, but the next thing I know I've got this insane plan in motion. And now I'm here and I don't want to be anywhere else." He turns his head and catches Merlin's eye. "I told him yesterday that I was moving out and resigning from my position at his company. This morning I got an email from him telling me that he'd drained all my accounts and cancelled the insurance on my car. I don't even have enough money to buy a loaf of bread."

Merlin is staring at him, expression unreadable. "Well," he finally says. "That explains a lot."

"Yeah," Arthur agrees, shifting his gaze back to the ceiling. "Now you see why I'm going to be homeless in two months."

"No, no," Merlin says hastily, scooting closer. "We'll figure this out. I mean." He pauses, rubbing the side of his face thoughtfully. "You've got a place to live for now, and I know you've got clothes to wear. You mentioned something last night about furniture?"

Arthur's heart skips a little at the mention of the previous night. He nods. "Yeah, already fully paid for. Scheduled to be delivered tomorrow."

"So at least you won't be sleeping on the floor or the couch," Merlin points out, lips twitching up into a half-teasing smile. "I don't mind buying extra groceries for a while, and I'm sure if we explain what's going on to Gwaine he won't either." He pauses, raising an eyebrow. "As long as it's not caviar or anything."

Arthur laughs, some of the tension flowing out of him. "No, no caviar. It's disgusting anyway." His smile fades a little. "The major problem is getting a job. I can't drive my car without insurance, and I don't have any money to pay a taxi."

Merlin makes a thoughtful noise. "You could get one within walking distance?"

"I guess so." Arthur sighs. "That seems to be the only viable option at this point."

Silence falls between them for a moment, and that's when Arthur is hit with a sudden realization. A slightly choked noise escapes him as he pushes up on his elbows to look around his room. "Oh, god."

"What?" Merlin asks, brows drawing together.

"I can't paint the walls," Arthur says faintly.

"Oh." Merlin grimaces and looks around. "Erm. Maybe you'll get used to it?"

Arthur raises both eyebrows. "Yeah, I don't think so."

Merlin frowns slightly, and then his eyes go wide and he snaps his fingers. "Wait a minute. There's cans of paint and all the stuff you need to do it with down in the supply cupboard at the end of the main corridor. It's been there for ages, I don't think anyone else is going to use it."

Arthur hesitates. If he can paint the walls despite not having any money then that would at least be one good thing to make him feel better. "Alright," he says slowly. "You're sure no one will miss it?"

Merlin grins and pushes himself to his feet. "Only one way to find out. Come on."

In the supply cupboard they find three cans of unopened paint (outside labels removed), several brushes and rollers, a couple of paint pans, a small roll of blue tape, and a large roll of plastic. They haul it all back to the flat and Arthur's room without running into anyone, and for that Arthur is beyond grateful. He'd rather not get arrested for stealing, thank you very much.

Once Merlin has changed out of his work shirt and they've moved all of Arthur's things to either his closet or the living room, they open the window and roll out the plastic to cover the carpeted floor.

And then they stand side by side, staring down at the paint cans.

"What color do you think it is?" Merlin asks, toeing one of the cans cautiously.

"No idea," Arthur says. "Let's just…open it and see."

Merlin reaches into his pocket and pulls out a pocket knife, flipping it open and crouching down to slip the blade underneath the lid. He carefully pries it open, placing the lid paint-side up on the plastic before straightening to stand next to Arthur again.

They both stare.

The paint is bright, neon purple.

"Um," Merlin says. "It's better than puke green?"

Arthur looks up at his walls, and back down at the paint. And then again.

He reaches down and picks up two rollers, handing one to Merlin. "Let's get started."

Three hours later they've managed to cover nearly two entire walls, and Arthur's clothes are pretty much ruined.

"Okay," he says, wiping one hand on his jeans as he glides his roller over the section he's working on. "I think at this point it would be safe to say I don't really know what I'm doing."

Merlin laughs. "I'd say you're doing just fine. There's paint on the walls, isn't there?"

"Oh, har-har," Arthur says sarcastically. "So you're the expert now, I take it?"

"You could say that," Merlin agrees, grinning widely. His section has much neater lines than Arthur's. Bastard. "My dad and I used to repaint a room of our house a couple times a year, much to my mum's annoyance. Which room we picked was always random, though I remember doing my own room quite a few times."

"That must have been fun," Arthur says after a moment, and he can feel Merlin's eyes land on him.

"It was," Merlin agrees, and to Arthur's relief there's no pity in his voice.

They paint in silence for a few more minutes, the bright purple easily covering the weird green. It's the lesser of the two evils, that's for sure, but it's still going to take Arthur some getting used to.

And then, without warning, he feels something cold and wet hit him on the side of his face. He jerks slightly, bringing his hand up to his cheek. His fingertips slide through something, and when he pulls them away they're purple. He looks up to see Merlin grinning at him, having exchanged his roller for a paint brush.

"Oops," he says cheerfully, not sounding at all apologetic. "My hand slipped."

"Your hand slipped," Arthur repeats, and feels something giddy and excited curl through him.

Merlin nods. "It did. So sorry."

"Oh, well," Arthur says. He raises both eyebrows mockingly as he carefully sets his roller down and picks up a brush, dipping it into the paint. "As long as you're _sorry_."

Merlin watches him carefully, stepping back as Arthur steps forward. "I am," he says, and is obviously anything but. "Very, _very_ sorry."

Arthur lunges, aiming for Merlin's face and catching his ear and some of his hair as he tries to duck out of the way.

"Oh," Merlin laughs as he brings his hand up to his ear and hair. "That's how it is, then."

"That's how it is," Arthur says challengingly, twirling the paintbrush between his fingers.

"Alright," Merlin says, lifting his chin and nodding. He holds his paintbrush up and examines it. "Just remember you asked for it."

"Just remember you started it," Arthur shoots back, and Merlin sends him a wicked grin.

They stare at each other for a second, and Arthur has just enough time to notice how blue Merlin's eyes are before they're both moving, getting as much paint on their brushes as they can. Arthur doesn't waste any time, flicking his wrist and flinging the paint in Merlin's direction. Merlin is doing the same thing, and they both move to reload before the other.

All of a sudden there's paint flying everywhere. It's landing all over Arthur even as what Arthur's flinging at Merlin lands on him, the walls, and the plastic covering the floor. Neither of them give any ground, and they're both laughing almost uncontrollably. He's not sure what the objective is, other than to cover each other in paint, but it's the most fun he's had in bloody _ages_.

Deciding to change his tactic, Arthur ducks out of Merlin's path and dips his brush in the paint again. He grins wickedly, and Merlin's eyes widen. He steps back but it's not enough; Arthur rushes at him, wrapping one arm around his waist and tackling him to the floor. Merlin shouts, dropping his paintbrush, and then lets out a stream of curses as Arthur straddles his thighs and rucks his shirt up enough to drag his brush across Merlin's pale stomach.

"Fuck!" Merlin yells, laughter bursting out of him as he tries to wriggle away. "Oh god, stop. That tickles!"

"Does it?" Arthur asks, feigning innocence. He grins and lightly pulls the purple-covered bristles down Merlin's side. "So sorry."

Merlin jerks, laughing helplessly as Arthur continues his assault. He tries to grab Arthur's wrist but his constant writhing while trying to avoid the brush makes it hard to do. "Fuck," he gasps out, pushing at Arthur's thighs. "You're heavy, damn it."

"You can do better than that, _Mer_ lin," Arthur challenges teasingly, sliding the brush over his paint-covered skin. "I'm barely touching you and you know it."

Merlin groans, and all of a sudden Arthur's hard as a rock. He freezes, his hand clenching around the handle of the brush and his breath catching in his throat. Merlin must notice, because he takes advantage of Arthur's sudden stillness and arches his back, twisting his body until he's flipped them over. Arthur lands on his back with a grunt of surprise, not having expected the move at all, and his brush goes sliding across the plastic. All of a sudden Merlin's knees are on either side of his hips and his wrists are pinned above his head, Merlin's long fingers wrapped tightly around them. He stares up at Merlin's flushed face and mussed hair, the line of paint Arthur had gotten him with leading from his neck all the way up over his ear and turning the soft black to stiff purple.

Merlin leans down until their noses brush and Arthur can feel hard puffs of breath against his mouth. "I win," Merlin says, eyes dark and voice low.

Arthur swallows. His tongue darts out over his lips, and he nearly groans when Merlin's eyes follow it.

"Ahem."

Both Arthur and Merlin startle, and Merlin releases Arthur's wrists, sitting up and scowling. "Gwaine," he says, sounding disgruntled and unhappy. "I thought you weren't getting off until five today."

"It's five-thirty," Gwaine says, grinning.

Arthur really wants to kill him.

"Oh," Merlin says, glancing at his watch in surprise. He sighs and glances at Arthur before climbing off of him, pushing up to a stand. "You're an arse, do you know that?"

Gwaine's just winks at him, and then glances around at the bright purple walls. "Mate," he says, looking back at Arthur and raising both eyebrows. "This is gayer than a rainbow colored unicorn."

Arthur glares at him, sitting up and resting his forearms on his knees. "I didn't have much choice on the color." He glances up at Merlin, covered head to toe in paint. "Though I have to say it's growing on me."

Gwaine rolls his eyes and Merlin mostly ignores him, but Arthur can see the way his lips twitch. "How about we break for some food and explain to Gwaine why your room is now neon purple? The three of us can finish up the painting afterwards, so everything's ready for when the delivery people show up tomorrow."

"Yeah, alright," Arthur agrees easily, although the only thing he really wants to do is drag Merlin back down and see how much unpainted skin there is to taste.

Starting with his mouth, and possibly ending with his cock.

And then they can wash the paint off and Arthur can taste the rest of him.

Stifling a sigh of regret, Arthur pushes to his feet to follow the other two from the room. There's not a doubt in his mind that somehow he'll find a way to have one epic wank later that night.

*

By the time his furniture is delivered the next day, Arthur has managed to scrub most of the purple from his body. After drying overnight the paint on the walls isn't quite so bright, and he thinks that maybe it won't be too hard to get used to (especially if he keeps thinking about how it looked on Merlin).

The mattress, box spring, dresser, and bedside table are all delivered intact, but to Arthur's surprise (and despair) he's going to have to assemble the bed frame himself. Neither Merlin nor Gwaine are at home, which means Arthur is at least going to have to try to do it by himself. Making a distraught noise in the back of his throat, he stares at the box for several long minutes before finally venturing forth and opening it.

There are a fuck-ton of pieces, and Arthur spreads them all out on the floor before digging out the instructions and carefully unfolding them. There are several diagrams, with arrows and numbers and do-this-but-don't-do-that words and Arthur glances from the large piece of paper to the parts scattered around, wondering if maybe sleeping on the floor might not be such a bad idea. Groaning slightly, he carefully puts the instructions down on the top of the now-empty box and goes off to find the tools he'll need.

He will never, ever admit how long it actually takes him to put the goddamned thing together.

After that putting on the mattresses and bedsheets are easy, and when everything is finished Arthur just stands there for a moment, staring. He feels happier and more accomplished than he ever did doing endless amounts of paperwork for his father, and no matter how many times he tells himself _it's just a bed_ , it doesn't stop that proud, overwhelming feeling in his chest. He _can_ do this, no matter what his father says.

Suddenly feeling like he needs to make the room even more his, Arthur walks to the closet and pulls out his duffle bag, tossing it on the bed and tugging open the zip. He pulls out the picture of his mum first, placing it carefully on the bedside table. His alarm clock and lamp are next, and the stack of books and his reading glasses are tucked behind everything, against the wall. His iPod is tossed onto the bed next to his laptop, and the last thing he pulls out is the photo album from Morgana.

The leather is cracked and worn from the many times he's looked at it over the past four and a half years. Now, he crawls onto his brand new bed and sits cross-legged against the head board, his pillows against his back. He sets the photo album in his lap and opens the cover, snorting at the first familiar picture of Morgana smashing his face into his fifth birthday cake. She had been angry at him for stealing her Barbies and cutting off all their hair, and had expected him to cry and embarrass himself. Instead, all she had gotten was a glare from him and a sound punishment from Uther.

It's a wonder, Arthur thinks, how they didn't grow up completely hating each other.

The rest of the album is filled with pictures like that: him and Morgana through the years, usually fighting, sometimes being civil, but always with a bond stronger than any they had with outside acquaintances. There's a few photographs scattered throughout that are of other people – friends or boyfriends of the moment, none of which lasted for either of them but hold some sort of importance anyway.

There isn't a single one of Uther.

The very last picture in the album is of Morgana by herself, standing in front of what looks like an abandoned building. She's grinning widely, looking happier than he'd seen her in a long time. He's never been able to figure out where she was or what made her so happy; the only thing he knows about that picture is that it was taken just before she left, disappearing in the middle of the night without even a goodbye.

He used to be angry at her for doing that, but now he understands. She had needed to escape, to get out and make her own way. It's the exact same thing he's done, she just went about it differently.

Sighing heavily, Arthur reaches up and rubs his thumb over the corner of the picture. He'd give almost anything to see her again, to know that she's okay. She'd be so proud of him for finally standing up to Uther and doing what was right for himself.

The corner of the picture suddenly pulls away from the album page, making Arthur frown. None of the others had ever done that, and he's looked through them enough that he would have noticed if they had. Hesitating slightly, he uses his index finger and thumb to slowly peel the picture away, not wanting to damage it. Once it's free he automatically flips it over, and to his shock there's an address written on the back in Morgana's handwriting.

 _12 Ender Way_

Arthur's heart nearly stops. He closes the photo album with a snap and pushes it to the side, reaching for his computer and opening the lid. It takes several minutes to boot up fully, but as soon as it has he pulls up his browser and immediately goes to Google maps. He holds his breath as he types in the address and clicks, and then lets it out slowly, eyes wide, as it shows him a location only two blocks away from the flat.

Two fucking blocks.

Arthur barely takes the time to put on his shoes and grab his keys before he's out the door. He can't stand to wait on the lift so he takes the stairs, skipping two at a time all the way down to the ground floor. There's dark rainclouds forming in the sky outside but he barely notices, turning in the direction the map had said Ender Way was and walking as fast as he can without running. He knows there's a high possibility that Morgana isn't even there anymore, that she's moved on and made another change in her life. Four and a half years is a long time.

Ignoring the ache that thought causes deep in his chest, Arthur keeps going until he reaches the right street. Taking a deep breath he starts down the sidewalk, eyes flicking to the numbers on the buildings as he passes them. Now that he can see more than what the picture shows, it's obvious that the area isn't abandoned. There's lots of people on the street and several of them smile at him; there are artists and musicians and the like mixed in with the ones just going from one destination to the next. The buildings are worn but clean, the feel of them traditional but with a flare of modern that can be seen in the way they're decorated and cared for.

Number Twelve is a pub. Arthur's heart drops as he reads the words painted on the wooden sign hanging above the door – _The Red Dagger Pub & Grill_. That can't be right, can it?

Not willing to give up so easily, Arthur sets his jaw and opens the door, stepping into the dimly lit bar. It's nice; the walls are painted a deep red, canvases of abstract art scattered around them. The lighting fixtures are blown glass and there are strings of white fairy lights stretched between them. Black tables and chairs half-filled with people are spread throughout the middle, with matching booths lined against the back two walls.

Suddenly nervous, Arthur wipes his hands on his jeans as surreptitiously as he can and steps toward the bar. There's a man behind it, his curly hair down just past his jaw and his beard trimmed neatly. He's wearing a black button-down shirt rolled up to his elbows and a pair of nice jeans, and he smiles welcomingly when Arthur takes a seat on one of the bar stools.

"Hello. What can I get for you today?"

"Um," Arthur says, painfully aware of the fact that he can't afford to order anything. "Actually, I'm looking for someone. Her name is Morgana. She, uh." He pauses, licks his lips. "I had thought she'd be here."

The man's smile fades and he looks at Arthur carefully. "What's your name?"

"Arthur," he answers, feeling like a complete fool. The man's probably going to call the police and have him arrested for being insane or something.

Surprisingly, he grins widely instead and extends a hand. "Hello Arthur, I'm Leon."

"Er. Hi," Arthur says cautiously, giving him a firm handshake. "I didn't mean to bother you, I just – "

"No, no, it's no bother," Leon says, waving him off. "Just…don't go anywhere. I'll be right back."

Arthur blinks as Leon turns and steps through an opening in the bar, disappearing around a corner on the other side. Glancing around uncomfortably, he wonders what he'll do if Morgana isn't here; go back to the flat and carry on with his life, he supposes. Maybe some of the shops on this street are hiring. If he could get a job two blocks from home he'd be set.

An achingly familiar woman suddenly appears from the direction Leon had gone, freezing in place as her eyes scan the bar and land on him. Arthur's throat closes, eyes widening as he takes in his sister for the first time in nearly five years.

"Morgana," he breathes.

"Oh god, Arthur," Morgana says, sounding shocked. "I didn't think – " She breaks off, looking around at the pub's customers and then back to Arthur. "Come on, let's go in back."

Arthur slides from his seat and follows her as she turns on her heel, heading back around the corner and through a door marked _Employees Only_. He's not sure he could speak if he tried, and it all feels terribly surreal as they walk down a corridor to what he assumes must be Morgana's office. The desk is a huge wooden thing, and the seats plush leather. Some habits are hard to break, Arthur thinks as he sinks down into a soft chair and nearly groans with pleasure.

"I have to admit I never expected to see you here," Morgana says. "Four and a half years is a long time to wait."

"Christ, Morgana," Arthur says, looking at her in disbelief. "You're kind of a bitch, you know. You couldn't have at least rung me once or twice?"

"I thought you hated me." She says it casually, but even after all this time Arthur can see the well-hidden uncertainty in her eyes. "I left you the address for here, but you never came."

Arthur shakes his head, leaning forward and resting his elbows on both knees. "I didn't have any idea you'd written anything on the back of that picture until about twenty minutes ago. That was a shit hiding place."

"I guess it was," Morgana admits, a small smile twisting her lips. "But you finally found it and now you're here. Damn it, I've missed you. No one else fights back with me like you do."

Arthur grins. "No one else deserves the privilege of seeing your face turn red with fury."

Morgana snorts, sitting back in her chair. "Yes, you always were quite good at that." Her expression softens and her eyes trace over his face. "How are you really? I'm willing to bet Father is still the same tyrannical bastard he was before I left."

"Can't deny that," Arthur mutters, and then sighs. "Actually, I moved out and resigned from the company."

Morgana's eyes widen. "You didn't!" she exclaims, a slow grin stretching across her face. "Look at that; Daddy's little boy, all grown up and thinking for himself. I never would have thought it possible."

"Shut it," Arthur says lightly. "This isn't easy."

"Oh, I know it isn't," Morgana says, raising both eyebrows. "Not at first. How long has it been since you came to your senses?"

"Three days," Arthur answers, and Morgana looks surprised. "Over the course of which I've rented a bedroom in a flat I'm sharing with two other men – one of whom is so fucking gorgeous he makes me _ache_ – bought my own furniture as well as clothing that isn't appropriate for a professor, faced Father and quit my job, had an all-night movie marathon with said gorgeous guy, discovered that my accounts were drained and that I'm now utterly broke, painted my walls purple, had a paint fight with and very nearly kissed gorgeous guy – whose name is Merlin, by the way – assembled my new bed by myself, and found you."

Morgana blinks. "Well," she finally says, sounding just a bit overwhelmed; Arthur knows the feeling. "When you make a decision you go all out, don't you?"

Arthur's smile is just this side of self-deprecating. "All or nothing – " he recites, and Morgana rolls her eyes.

"Is the Pendragon way," she finishes. "Yes, yes, I still remember. One of the few things Father was right about." She eyes him knowingly. "You need a job."

"Ah," Arthur says, blinking in surprise. "I do, actually, but that's not why I'm here."

Morgana waves that away. "Of course it isn't, I know that. Fortunately for you, I'm willing to offer one anyway."

"Morgana – "Arthur starts, and snaps his mouth shut when she glares at him.

"Leon and I were literally talking just yesterday about training a new bartender," Morgana explains, lips turning up slightly into a smile. "It's perfect timing, to be honest. Do you really think I would give you a job out of pity?"

Arthur snorts. "No, I wouldn't dare think that."

"Good," Morgana says firmly, and opens a drawer on her desk to pull out a stack of papers. "Let's go ahead and get all the paperwork started, then. We'll take the rest of this week to get everything finalized, and you can start on Monday."

Arthur takes the pen she offers, swallowing around a sudden lump in his throat. "Thank you," he says, putting every ounce of sincerity into the words as he can manage.

Morgana gives him one of her rare soft smiles, the one that proves she actually is a human being who cares. "You're my brother, Arthur. Now get started; the evening crowd will be here soon."

Arthur laughs shortly, heart lighter than it's been since he started this mad adventure, and scoots his chair closer to her desk so he can start filling out his very first application ever.

*

A few hours later Arthur is leaving the pub with a new job and a lighter step. He can't keep the stupid, happy grin off his face, and to be honest he doesn't even try. Morgana had told him about how she had saved secretly for months to buy The Red Dagger, the way she had slept in the tiny attic room above it for the first year and a half before she was turning enough profit to rent herself a flat nearby. Uther had cut her off as soon as he had realized what she had done, just as he had Arthur. She, however, had expected it, and had put away as much money as she would need until the pub could open.

Arthur's decision might not have been as well-thought out as Morgana's, but there isn't a single shred of doubt in his mind that he's made the right choice. He knows there's a part of him that will always want Uther's approval, but he's finally at a point where he can see the flaw in that desire; his own approval of himself is more important, and he feels a thousand times lighter for that realization.

The rainclouds from earlier are heavy and dark in the sky, thunder rolling close by, and Arthur can smell the storm that's almost there. When he reaches the building where the flat is located he stops outside for a second and takes a deep breath; the air is cool and damp, filling his lungs and making his smile widen. It feels like he's taking that final step into something fresh and new, and he's going to welcome it with open arms.

Arthur takes the lift up to his floor, almost bouncing with energy as he unlocks the door and steps inside. "Hello!" he calls. "Anyone home yet?"

Gwaine walks out of the kitchen, sandwich in one hand and a beer in the other. "Hey, mate. You look like someone just gave you all your money back."

"Nope," Arthur says cheerfully. "Something better – I found my sister and got a job."

Gwaine stares at him oddly, taking a drink of his beer. "I'm guessing there's a bit more to it than that?"

"A bit, yeah," Arthur agrees, grinning. "Is Merlin home?"

"Up on the roof," Gwaine says, walking over to the couch and flopping down. "He likes to go up there sometimes when it's going to storm. Just take the lift to the top floor. There's a stairwell at the end of the corridor that leads to the roof."

"Great, thanks," Arthur says, ignoring Gwaine's eye roll as he turns and leaves the flat again.

He follows Gwaine's directions, and when he steps through the door leading onto the roof he immediately spots Merlin stretched out on a deck chair, staring at the sky. One arm is tucked behind his head and the other is resting across his stomach; he looks relaxed and happy, and for a moment all Arthur can do is stare. It's far too soon for declarations of love and forever – they've just met, after all – but in the back of his mind he knows it's only a matter of time.

Walking over, Arthur drops down into the empty deck chair next to Merlin's. "Hey."

Merlin turns his head to look at him, smiling warmly. "Hey, yourself. Gwaine must have told you where to find me."

"He did," Arthur says, returning the smile. "I had to come tell you something."

Merlin raises an eyebrow. "Something important?"

"Very. I found my sister today, and she gave me a job at her pub."

"You have a sister?" Merlin asks in surprise. "And what do you mean you found her?"

"It's a bit of a long story," Arthur says, shrugging slightly. "Basically, she left like I did and I haven't seen her in nearly five years. Turns out she owns The Red Dagger two blocks over. I walked over there today and told her what happened. She offered me a job, and I took it."

Merlin's smile is wide and bright, and he sits up to face Arthur more directly. "That's brilliant! So you'll be sticking around for a while, after all."

"I will," Arthur says, sitting up as well and turning so that their knees are brushing. He looks Merlin directly in the eye. "In fact, I'm planning to stick around for a long, long time."

Merlin's gaze darkens, his smile becoming a touch more wicked. "Is that right?"

"That's right," Arthur agrees. He slides forward so that he's sitting on the very edge of his chair, slipping one leg in between Merlin's and knocking them apart slightly. "I'm an all or nothing type of guy."

"Good thing I like those types," Merlin murmurs, placing one hand on Arthur's thigh. "I really fucking want to kiss you right now."

"So fucking do it," Arthur breathes.

Merlin makes a noise in the back of his throat, leaning forward and pressing their mouths together, licking immediately into Arthur's. It's fucking brilliant, and Arthur's heart threatens to beat right out of his chest as all of his blood rushes to his cock. He's hard in an instant, Merlin's tongue twisting around his in a way that tells him Merlin knows exactly what he's doing.

"Fuck," Arthur gasps into Merlin's mouth, nipping at his bottom lip as Merlin buries both hands in his hair.

Merlin hums his agreement, delving his tongue back into Arthur's mouth as he leans into the kiss. Arthur loses his balance and falls back against his chair, dragging Merlin with him and gripping his hips as Merlin's legs fall open, straddling Arthur's lap. Merlin's hands are still in his hair, and he uses them to tilt Arthur's head, breaking the kiss to drag his teeth up Arthur's jaw to his ear, sucking harshly on the soft skin behind it.

All of a sudden the skies open up, rain pouring down around them and soaking them through in seconds. Arthur gasps from the shock of it, but Merlin sits up and laughs, tilting his head toward the sky. Breath catching at the sight, Arthur takes the opportunity to slide his hands beneath Merlin's wet shirt, over still-warm skin up to his nipples, squeezing lightly. Merlin gasps, lowering his head and looking at Arthur with blown-wide pupils.

"Ever had sex in the rain?" he asks breathlessly, and all Arthur can do is shake his head. Merlin grins widely, reaching for the zip on Arthur's jeans. "I want to see your cock so bad."

Arthur groans, sliding his hands down to Merlin's jeans and scrambling to undo them. "Christ, you are so fucking sexy."

Merlin flushes slightly at that, and keeps his gaze on his hands as he works Arthur's wet jeans and boxers over his hips. Arthur presses the heel of one hand against Merlin's hard cock before slipping his hand inside his pants to wrap around it. It's hot and heavy, and the low whining noise Merlin makes as his hips jerk against Arthur's hand makes Arthur's own cock twitch.

They scramble a bit desperately to get their clothes down just far enough, and then Merlin is licking the palm of his hand and wrapping it around both of them, their cocks pressed tightly together. Arthur's breath hitches, his eyes locked on Merlin's; he's far from a virgin, but it's never felt quite like this before.

The rain is falling hard around them, pounding against the concrete roof. Merlin's hand starts to move, stroking them from root to tip, swiping his thumb over both heads and mixing their precome. His lips are parted, kiss red and swollen, and Arthur can't help but reach up and slide his thumb into Merlin's mouth. He groans as Merlin closes his lips around it and sucks, eyelids fluttering as he tightens his grip around their cocks. Arthur's hips stutter, his free hand clutching desperately at Merlin's t-shirt as a choked noise escapes him.

Merlin twists his tongue around Arthur's thumb before releasing it with a soft pop, and he leans down to crush their mouths together again. His tongue pushes deep into Arthur's mouth and he grinds their hips together, cocks squeezed tight and brilliant between them. His hand is still stroking them, knuckles scraping against Arthur's stomach; it feels so good, pleasure stretching all the way down to Arthur's toes. He wraps one arm tightly around Merlin's waist, holding him in place as he pushes his hips up, wanting it to last but craving that tip over the edge too much.

Merlin gasps against his mouth, free hand suddenly gripping Arthur's hair hard. Both of their movements are messy and uncoordinated and wildly good, the choked-off noises echoing from Merlin's throat increasing in volume as his hand moves faster, stripping them both. A moment later Merlin tenses, his cock jerking as hot liquid spills onto Arthur's stomach. Arthur curses, closing his eyes and arching his back, his own orgasm so close he can taste it. Merlin groans, low and broken, but he releases himself and wraps his come-soaked hand around Arthur and strokes, hard and fast and just enough.

Arthur shouts, fingers digging into Merlin's sides as he comes, spilling over onto Merlin's hand. His eyes roll back in his head and his heels dig into the chair beneath him, pleasure pulsing through him until he's boneless with it. He sinks back down, keeping his grip on Merlin, and opens his eyes to see bright blue staring back at him.

Merlin smiles crookedly, looking as wrecked as Arthur feels, and Arthur knows he's completely and utterly done for.

He doesn't mind. He's waited long enough for his life to start.

*

 _Epilogue_

"So," Merlin says, plopping down on the bar stool next to Arthur. "How does it feel to throw your own birthday party exactly the way you want it?"

Arthur leans back, looking around at all the friends he's made over the past six months. "Actually, it feels really fucking great."

Merlin grins, kicking his foot lightly against Arthur's. "It was nice of Morgana to let you use the pub. There's no way everybody would have fit inside the flat."

" _Let_ me use?" Arthur repeats, giving Merlin a disbelieving look. "You mean let me _bribe_ her into using it. You'd think she could at least give me this one night as a birthday gift."

"Morgana's gift was your watch," Merlin reminds him, sounding highly amused. "The watch you said you _loved_ , by the way."

Arthur glares at him. "Whatever," he mutters, and ignores Merlin's laugh when he reaches down to fiddle with the soft leather band. "Aren't you at least supposed to be on my side on my own bloody birthday? You're a terrible boyfriend."

"I'm a wonderful boyfriend, actually, and you know it," Merlin says, grinning.

Arthur makes a thoughtful noise. "I'm not so sure about that. You haven't even given me my birthday present yet."

Merlin's grin turns wicked, and he leans closer to speak low in Arthur's ear. "That's because it's not meant for anyone else to see."

Arthur's breath hitches. "Yeah?"

"Yeah." Merlin flicks his tongue out, briefly touching it to the shell of Arthur's ear before pulling back. "So you'll just have to wait until the party's over and we can go home."

Arthur narrows his eyes; he'll be half-hard the rest of the night now, and knows that was exactly Merlin's intention. "Bastard."

Merlin's eyes widen innocently. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

Arthur just rolls his eyes, failing to keep the smile from his face. He looks out over the crowd again, spotting Gwaine and Elena dancing together off to one side. Poking Merlin's shoulder to get his attention, he gestures to them. "He's been spending more and more nights at her place lately. We hardly ever see him anymore."

"I know," Merlin says, but he doesn't sound too bothered by it. "He'll probably make the move official soon. A few days ago he mentioned something about asking her to marry him."

Arthur's eyebrows shoot up in surprise. "Really? Wow."

Merlin shrugs, lips twisting up into a slight smile. "It's not that much of a surprise. They've been dating for about three years now."

Gwaine suddenly twirls Elena around, making her laugh before he pulls her back in and kisses her.

Arthur watches them for a long moment, heart hammering in his chest, before asking, "Do you think we'll need to rent out his room when he finally moves?"

Merlin doesn't answer at first, and Arthur's stomach drops. Finally, he turns and looks Arthur straight in the eye, his own bright and happy. "Nah," he says, a wide smile stretching across his face. "I think we'll be just fine on our own."

Arthur's answering smile is stupidly big, and he hops off his stool, holding his hand out to Merlin. "Come on, let's go home."

Merlin raises both eyebrows but stands and takes Arthur's hand. "We're going to leave everybody here at your birthday party without you?"

"The cake's been cut, the presents opened, and the alcohol served," Arthur points out, pulling Merlin closer and releasing his hand to wrap an arm around his waist. "They'll never miss us."

Merlin laughs. "Alright, let's go. I've been dying for us to use your gift since I bought it."

"About that," Arthur says as they turn and head for the door. "Can I have a few hints, maybe? Just on the walk home. For fun."

"Uh-uh," Merlin says, bumping his hip against Arthur's. "No hints. It'll spoil it."

"Fine," Arthur sighs. "But just remember this when your birthday comes around."

Merlin only looks amused at that, and presses close against Arthur's side as they step out into the cool night air.


End file.
